Devin and I were in West Point to watch the fireworks in the park one year and take pictures with his new camera during the show. Then he created an awesome 3-picture layout with a silhouette of us watching the fireworks that were bursting in the sky above. I think that's still one of my favorite little photo collages he's made. I would share it, but we went to look for it in the garage yesterday and discovered it's in the bottom tub. Beneath seven other tubs. What can I say? We're still moving in after two months.
We didn't buy fireworks this year because we're saving up for things (and trying to make money, of course), and we couldn't shoot them off at the apartment anyway. But that didn't matter because the surrounding area provided the entertainment all weekend.
Our deck has a pretty great view at almost any time of day (even when it's foggy!).
We're fortunate enough to not be staring at parking lots and dirty rooftops or looking into other people's windows. Just lots of open sky, trees and a few deer.
Since we're still new to Omaha, we really didn't know specific firework show locations, so we grabbed a bottle of bubbly and a couple flutes and sat on the deck with Empire to watch other people's light shows. It was a panoramic view. Complete awesomeness.
The rest of the holiday weekend was pretty enjoyable too. Devin cooked a lot, and I even joined him in the kitchen for one meal and whipped up a rockin' risotto (similar recipe here, and pretty accurate photo here, since I forgot to take one). That doesn't happen often, but I got a little motivation from when my mom visited for all of 10 minutes this past weekend. Devin was in the kitchen making lunch while I chatted with her in the living room. She was commenting on his knife skills and how focused he was while preparing food. Then she asked if I spent much time in the kitchen, and I said, "Well, not really."
I think she was disappointed because she shook her head, pursed her lips like she does and said, "Lois, you should cook." And then she stared at me, I guess hopeful that her short statement would sink in. I explained that Devin sort of claimed the kitchen as his own, and if he enjoys it, it's his. It doesn't bother me, and he's a better cook than I am anyway. She wasn't convinced.
I don't sew, I don't cook/bake (much anymore). So, I have apparently failed her, my grandmas and 4-H. It happens.
Here's to cooking when I darn well feel like it, spending my favorite (or any) holiday with my love and having my own personal chef. A girl could (and will happily) get used to this. *Cheers*